The Good Ol' Days
by Dire Kumori
Summary: Dashi may have died almost fifteen-hundred years ago, but his spirit still lives on. Those who remain can't help but notice the spark of mischief and ingenuity that dances behind the eyes of his successor. Sometimes it's painful just to look at him. And other times, like right now, as they sit and play their favorite game, it feels like they are making up for lost time.
_"Some friendships are so strong, they can even transcend lifetimes."_

~Avatar Roku, ATLA

* * *

The ivory tiles make gentle clacking sounds as they are arranged face down on the surface of the low dining table. These four tiles set apart from a much larger pile. Seated around the table are four players, two of them human, waiting to draw a tile to determine who will go first.

The first hand to reach out is small, spindly, but with needle-sharp claws and a healthy coating of dark green scales. The owner of the hand is a small Chinese lung by the name of Dojo Kanojo Cho, and he is extremely disappointed to find that he has drawn the North tile.

"Darn it. Again!?" Dojo complains while a second dragon, this one plumper with yellow-green scales and dressed in a Hawaiian shirt snickers in glee.

"Sucks to be you," the con-dragon Chucky Chu goads as he reaches forward to select his own tile. "South. You turn to draw, kiddo."

The Brazilian teen rolls his emerald eyes as he reaches for his own tile, snapping, "Don't call me kid," at the magical reptile without any real venom. Raimundo's lips twist into a smirk as he views his tile, and he holds it up so the orange-robed monk sitting across from him can see the painted character for East.

"I would accuse you of cheating," Master Monk Guan jests as he takes the last tile without even viewing it, "Had I not laid out the tiles myself."

Now that the order of turns is decided they mix their wind tiles in with the rest of the set. Then the whole thing gets arranged into a wall. Four rows, each two tiles high and seventeen tiles long are arranged to create a perfect square, not even the slightest gap breaking the chain. The players seat themselves around the square according to the tiles they drew, Raimundo and Guan sitting across from one another, with Dojo sitting to Raimundo's left. Dojo and Chucky immediately start glaring at each other across the table, baring their fangs in a show of competitiveness. At least, until Master Monk Guan places a loaded plate of spring rolls between them and they immediately tear into it.

"Shall we attempt to complete a full game this time?" Guan asks the young warrior sitting across from him and receiving a playful smirk in response.

"Yeah, we're gonna need more spring rolls if we wanna play a full game," Raimundo replies, indicating the rapidly dwindling pile of snacks. "Let's say whoever has the most points by the time these two finish eating throw themselves at each other wins. Sound good?"

"Sounds good," Guan replies with a hearty chuckle. "Now, I believe the first move is yours?"

Raimundo is surprisingly adept at classical version mahjong, despite have only just recently learned the rules of the game. Dojo and Chucky lag behind, but they are more preoccupied with beating one another than they are with outscoring the monks anyway.

While they play they also chat about anything and everything that comes to mind. Master Monk Guan talks about the new students who have been flocking to the temple as of late. Not all who have come will go on to join the order, either unable to keep up with the rigorous physical demands or not able to adjust to the monks' lifestyle, but those who do will become the first in a new generation of Xiaolin Warriors. Raimundo says he is looking forward to that as he completes another set. Raimundo describes his and the other Dragons' training with pride, talking about the great leaps in progress they've made these last few months. A lot of his training is done one-on-one with Master Fung these days, and as much of it is spiritual as it is physical. Although the Dragons' teacher has stated that this training is meant for him as a Shoku Warrior, that hasn't stopped Raimundo from teaching the others in secret. Of course, leader of the Xiaolin Dragons or no, Raimundo is still Raimundo and even with the added responsibility he still knows how and when to enjoy himself.

Guan smiles as he listens to Raimundo describe his latest prank against a sour-faced elder monk over at the Eastern Temple. He's missed this. It feels like home, fifteen hundred years ago, back when his two dearest friends were still at his side. Some days he well and truly believes that he's gained one of them back. Guan cracks a joke at the expense of Raimundo's sour-faced elder and earns a jubilant laugh in response.

"See, I knew _you'd_ appreciate it, Guano."

The ridiculous nickname sets a warm glow in the immortal's chest. Only one other person has ever called him that.

"I have had my fair share of experiences when it came to getting in trouble with my elders," Guan replies as he moves another tile. "Mostly after being dragged into trouble by an old friend of mine."

Raimundo looks up from his tiles, obviously interested. Master Monk Guan very rarely talks about his past and the Dragon of Wind latches onto any opportunity he can to learn more about the ancient monk. His mouth is open to ask more when-

"THAT'S IT!"

Before either of the monks can think to wonder _what_ was it, a green blur streaks across the table, sending ivory tiles flying everywhere and plowing directly into a screaming Chucky Chu. There is a mad scramble in which Guan and Raimundo struggle to separate the two dragons before Dojo can succeed in strangling Chucky, during which time the table ends up turned on its side and the game completely forgotten about. In a way, Guan muses silently as he holds a squirming, murderous dragon in his grasp, this was like old times as well.

Chucky runs - well, slithers... waddles? - as fast as he can from the room while Dojo hisses and spits behind him. With his excessive thrashing Guan is only able to hold him for so long before he is finally able to slip free, but by now Chucky is long gone. That doesn't stop Dojo from barrelling out of the room, determined to exact vengeance upon the no good yo-yo thief.

Raimundo and Guan sit in stunned silence for several moments before the young Dragon bursts out laughing. Throwing a bemused glance in his direction, Guan watches as his student clutches his sides.

"Did you see Chucky's face? It's a good thing he doesn't wear pants, 'cause I was pretty sure he was gonna piss himself!"

"Were you keeping track of the points?"

Raimundo's laughter comes to an abrupt halt.

"Um, I thought you were?"

The two of them stare awkwardly at one another for a moment before Guan lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh and says, "Why don't we get this straightened up and then move to the garden for some tea?"

Raimundo grins. They get to work gathering up the tiles and cleaning up the spilled dishes left behind by the dragons. In the chaos, Raimundo has forgotten his question.

* * *

(Author's Note: This fic is a little bit of an experiment. If it's received well, I'm planning on turning it into a series of one shots based on one of my favorite fan theories in the Xiaolin Universe; the reincarnation theory. Mostly I'm planning on centering the focus of these short stories on the relationship between Guan and Raimundo, but I may also include other long-lived characters such as Dojo, Wuya, and Chase Young. I'm also thinking of starting each chapter with a relevant quote.

If you have any suggestions or constructive criticism for me, please review. Even this first drabble is subject to change. Once I'm satisfied with this I may end up posting it on my tumblr as well.)


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